


Storm Chaser

by sunmoonstarsrain



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunmoonstarsrain/pseuds/sunmoonstarsrain
Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it's impossible to tame a storm.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Original Character(s), Miya Atsumu/Original Female Character(s), Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 151
Kudos: 196





	1. There is rain in the air

‘You sure you want the job?’ Miya Osamu asks her when she turns up at his shop, application in hand, responding to the advertisement in Onigiri Miya’s window for part time staff - _general help needed, ability to ride a scooter a plus point_ - it had read. 

There are only fifteen seats in Onigiri Miya, and hardly any space for her to fit her backpack between her knees, but sunlight streams in invitingly from the glass shop front and there is a faint smell of grilled rice and fried fish that reminds her of weekly lunches at her grandparents’ home. 

‘Yes’, she answers, gesturing with her thumb at her scooter parked outside the shop. ‘I think I’m a good fit for this job’. The corner of Miya Osamu’s mouth lifts ever so slightly, and he leans forward in his seat, hand extended to her. 

‘Welcome to Onigiri Miya then’, he says before proceeding to brisk walk her through the ins and outs of the shop, the scope of her responsibilities, work schedule and (most importantly) her wage, leaving her head spinning at the end of the impromptu briefing. Miya Osamu seems passionate about his craft, his face brightening up with enthusiasm when he talks her through the various onigiris he sells, the type of rice he buys (from a boutique rice farmer in Hyogo, apparently), and he’s generous enough to offer her a decent wage, more than what she could be making working in a  _ combini _ . 

She stands by her bike on the roadside, tilting her face to the setting sun. There is the faintest smell of rain in the air. 

\---------------------------------

She soon falls into the rhythm of Onigiri Miya. 

Osamu is strangely territorial over food preparation, so her tasks in the kitchen are mainly limited to washing rice (thrice in clean water, drained thoroughly) and doling out cups of tea and bowls of soup. When he finds out that she’s studying accountancy at Osaka University, he immediately places her in charge of the cash register (and later, in charge of their books). Her scooter comes in handy when he needs her to do urgent stock runs or deliveries to customers. 

She learns the name of their regular customers - Abe-san, who only ever orders salmon onigiris with a side of pork bone soup. Kawasaki-san, who spends half her meal complaining about her aches and pains to a sympathetic Osamu. Mina-san, who turns up every day for breakfast after Osamu includes spam onigiri on his menu after he overhears that she misses her hometown of Okinawa. 

Osamu calls her over at the end of her shift on a busy Saturday night. ‘I’ve a large order for an old customer of mine. D’you think you could help deliver it?’ 

There is a gleam in his eye that she does not quite like. 

‘You sound like you’re sending me out to slaughter’ she comments half-jokingly, to which he responds with an amused shrug of his shoulder. She considers whether it’s bad form to throw her shoe at her boss’s head, but decides not to waste her time. So she shoulders the large sack of food, heading off on her scooter to a neat apartment building in a quiet neighbourhood.

Well – it would have been a quiet neighbourhood but for the music blasted from the top floor of her destination. She has to cover her ears the minute the elevator opens and wonders if their neighbours are deaf or dead because there is no way otherwise the apartment wouldn’t have copped a noise complaint. Grimacing at the tape over the doorbell, she knocks politely on the door. 

There is no response. 

She knocks once more, less politely this time, but still the door does not open. ‘Hello, your delivery is here!’ she calls firmly, slamming her fist down on the sturdy wooden door. 

There is still no response. 

She’s about to turn around when the door crashes open and a blonde head pops out. Her jaw falls open because standing before her is the spitting image of her boss that just sent her out with this order, albeit blonde and ever so slightly broader. 

‘You’re not ‘Samu, but you’re pretty’, he leers, leaning against the doorway. 

She’s tempted to deck him but she’s pretty sure that would mean losing her job. So reminding herself that all that’s standing between her and her bed is this delivery, she bites her tongue and extends the bag of food to him. ‘Your order, sir. Payment please.’ 

‘Didn’t ‘Samu mention that I don’t need to pay?’ The blonde Osamu replica tugs the bag of food towards him, frowning when she refuses to let go. 

‘Not that I know of - and I can’t let you have your order unless you pay for it’, she answers firmly, foot against the door. 

He straightens into his height in a thinly veiled attempt to intimidate her - and while he’s at least six foot of solid muscle from what she can see, it’s thanks to years of working in her father’s shop with men at least a full head taller and broader than her that she’s not afraid to tip her chin up at him with her widest, sharpest grin until he looks away to draw out a couple of thousand yen bills from his pocket, enough to cover the bill. 

‘Fine, fine - tell ‘Samu he wins’, he grumbles, slamming the door in her face. 

She waits until she’s back at her scooter and a good distance away from the apartment before she dials Osamu’s number. 

‘What was that?’ she asks without preamble when he picks up. 

‘What was what?’ Osamu answers, sounding uncharacteristically amused. 

‘Don’t play cute with me! Did you just make me deliver food to your brother?’ 

‘My twin actually’, and he ignores her squawk of indignation. ’Did he pay up?’

‘What do you take me for - of course! I didn’t let go of the food until he did.’

‘Huh’, Osamu responds, sounding surprised. ‘That’s the first time he actually gave in’. And with that, he laughs merrily and hangs up on her. 

She shrugs it off as one of her boss’s weird quirks. 

\---------------------------------

Except it doesn’t stop as being a weird quirk but turns into an annoying habit. 

Atsumu quickly becomes a regular customer (she learns during one of the twins’ many bickering sessions that he’s back in Osaka after several competitions), and Osamu latches on pretty fast that she’s far better than he is at forcing Atsumu to pay for the food he eats, so he sics her on Atsumu every time the blonde setter shows up at the shop for a meal. 

‘Pay up’ she orders Atsumu for the fourth time this week. Her tone gives no berth for refusal so Atsumu reaches for his pockets even as he grumbles his complaints about ‘ _ cowardly shrubs _ ’ and ‘ _ crazy bitches _ ’ at a grinning Osamu. 

‘You should give me a raise for managing your brother’, she complains to Osamu later, and though he raises an eyebrow at her, to her surprise, he does exactly that. 

Osamu proceeds to take advantage of said raise to send her to man their stand at MSBY’s first match of the season, armed with a few hundred onigiris. Business is brisk, but she finds her attention diverted by the sheer speed of the plays and the way the players all seem to have wings in their feet. 

Atsumu in particular catches her eye. Osamu explained to her over a slow day at work about volleyball positions and basic plays, and he boasted about Atsumu’s talent as a setter, how ‘ _ he always takes the best care of his spikers _ ’. Watching him now, even to her untrained eye, she can see how much thought he puts into each of his plays - the way he tricks the blockers to let his spikers fly high above them, the quick side stepping of increasingly frustrated attackers, the dump shots at the most unexpected of times. 

She’s impressed, though she doesn’t want to admit it - because Atsumu has the personality of a puddle of muddy rainwater, and she's fairly sure he'd never let her hear the end of it if he ever finds out. 

So it isn’t surprising when she spots him being hassled by a large gaggle of his fan girls outside the sports hall. They’re hanging off his arms begging him for autographs - and probably something much less innocent from the way his eyes are bugging out of his head. It’s tempting to walk away from him – it’s not as if he’s been particularly nice to her after all, but a few of the more rabid fan girls seem to get a little  _ too _ close for comfort and she figures even he doesn’t deserve  _ that _ . Plus he probably can’t just shove them off because that might cause yet another PR debacle that she and Osamu have become accustomed seeing in the news, so she breathes a sigh through her nose, cursing her conscience. __

‘Oi asshat, your ride’s here’, she shouts as loudly as she can, shouldering her way to the center of the crowd. His fan girls stare in stunned silence, but Atsumu catches on after she shoves her spare helmet into his chest, and grabbing her wrist for dear life, they sprint all the way to her scooter. 

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden before’, she snaps as he fiddles helplessly at his helmet. 

‘Of course, I have, what d’you take me for, some scrub?’ he retorts when he manages to strap his it on to his head. Her scooter groans under his weight. 

_ ‘Yes’ -  _ she itches to retort, because he’s clearly lying. He fights to keep upright as she loops her way through bends on the road and maintains a white knuckled grip on the back of his seat until she comes to a stop two streets away where his fan girls are unlikely to see him. 

‘So, where to?’ she asks him as he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. ‘I could let you off here, or we could grab some food - your choice.’ 

‘Eh… Could we drop by 7-11?’ he chuckles sheepishly. 

‘Really? You want me to take you to a  _ combini _ when your brother literally owns a restaurant?’ 

‘I’m cravin’ an egg mayo sandwich, what’s wrong with that?!’ he yells as she revs off, and she laughs when he squeaks and clings on to her waist. 

\---------------------------------

They end up at a combini anyway. Atsumu buys his egg mayo sandwich. And a bucket load of oden. And a bagful of karaage. And two pudding cups (singly packed, none of the triple cup kind for him  _ thank you very much _ ). At least he steers clear of the onigiri section, because Osamu might explode otherwise if he ever finds out. 

‘You’re paying the fine if my bike gets impounded’ she tells him sourly.

‘Relax - it’ll be fine’, he waves his hand airily at her. ‘’Sides, what’s a girl like you doing with a bike?’

‘A girl like me?’ she echoes, tilting her head in confusion. 

‘Y’know - kinda square and all? I assumed so, since ‘Samu mentioned you’re studying to be an accountant’, he clarifies through a mouthful of food. 

_ Square?! _ ’ she mouths at him, outraged, and he grins unrepentantly back at her, crunching on karaage. She abandons her annoyance to scoot back to avoid the ensuing spray of crumbs. 

‘Do you want me to answer seriously, or was that a rhetorical question, gross pig?’ 

‘Please, I’m always serious, darlin’, he drawls. 

She steals a fishcake from him in retaliation and he tries to rap her knuckles with his sandwich. They only settle down when the  _ combini _ staff glare at them mildly in reproof. 

‘I’ve always wanted to ride a bike ‘cos it always seemed like it allowed its rider to be  _ free _ ’, she says, shooting a fond look through the window at her own scooter, rusty and old it may be. 

‘I mean it allows you to get from one place to another, what’s so special about that?’ he asks, cocking his head in confusion. 

‘Mm…well, not just that. You see, when I was younger, I managed to beg my brothers to let me ride their bike after pestering them for months, but because I was so excited, I hit the thrusters too hard on the way up a hill and ended up crashing on the way down. But right before I crashed, there was a moment when I was on the top of the world with the wind in my face - it was the first time I truly felt  _ alive _ .’ 

She closes her eyes at the memory, her mouth lifting into a smile. ‘And that’s what I become addicted to - chasing the indescribable experience of being completely unfettered from the world, like a bird in the sky.’

He stares at her meditatively, as though she’s a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

‘What!’ she exclaims, the tips of her ears flushing pink, suddenly self-conscious. 

‘Nothin’, darlin’. Just thought that you’re more interesting than I thought’. Ignoring her indignant ‘ _ what?!’ _ , he stands up, brushing the crumbs off his lap. ‘Shall we get goin’? It’s about to rain.’ 

The ride back to his apartment passes in a blur of streetlights and gathering rain clouds, but thankfully it’s not as unpleasant as it was before as Atsumu eases into his seat, moving with her when she drops into a bend, loosening his hands on her waist. Still, she suspects it’s all bravado, as he stumbles stiff legged off the bike when they reach his apartment. 

But expected from a seasoned athlete used to the spotlight, he plasters on a grin, cocky and charming enough to make her blush. 

‘Thanks for the ride’, he says. ‘I wouldn’t mind coming out again with you for a ride sometime’. 

Then he smiles at her, and it’s soft, shorn of the sharp edges she’s used to seeing. It plants an unfamiliar seed of warmth in her core that survives her race home against the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and (especially) comments are much, much appreciated. Would really, really love it if you could find the time to comment whether you like my work, or tell me your favourite line or your guesses for the next chapter - anything really!! 
> 
> Updates to follow very soon. 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr @amjustagirl :)


	2. A storm averted

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like _this.’_ Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘ _shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’_. 

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red. 

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers. 

\---------------------------------

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s. 

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves. 

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own. 

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’ 

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh. 

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky. 

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply. 

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion. 

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response. 

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink. 

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes. 

\---------------------------------

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’. 

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water. 

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he has the appetite for is chasing more wins. I hope you’re ready to handle _that_.’ 

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation. 

\---------------------------------

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is _enormous)_ , bickering over what movie to watch next. 

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘ _That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him_ ’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( _no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say_ ). 

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart. 

\---------------------------------

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face. 

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine. 

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap. 

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away. 

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips. 

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest. 

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry _‘arsehole!’_ by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes. 

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind. 

\---------------------------------

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that. 

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’ 

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’ 

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come. 

‘Tsumu?’ 

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses. 

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again. 

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes. 

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye. 

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka. Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like _that_ ), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate. 

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home. 

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’. 

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of _fine_ , not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. 

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a _dad_ made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that _shit_ \- even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated. 

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’ 

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’. 

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death. 

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see _hope_ reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too. 

So she says _yes_ , and catches his smile in her hands. 

\---------------------------------

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her _shiro-muku_ , the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s _montsuki_ . Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her _kaiken_ , a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup. 

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family. 

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed. 

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips. 


	3. The calm before the storm

Their daughter enters the world squalling, tiny and pink and bloodied and somewhat wrinkled but _healthy_ (which is all that really matters), and Atsumu’s eyes widen before immediately filling with tears when the doctor places her in his arms. 

‘You did amazin’, darlin’ he whispers, running his finger against their daughter’s cheek reverently. ‘She’s perfect’. 

‘Make sure you count ten fingers and toes before you say that’, she manages to say before dropping her head back into the pillow, bone weary from her labour, and he laughs through his tears. 

They name her Shino, which means _stem of bamboo_. She reasons that if their daughter is going to take the Miya family name, she should in fairness have a name that represents her side of the family – and besides, she’d always been drawn to the whimsicalness of the tale of the bamboo cutter, but thought naming her baby ‘Kaguya’ might be a little on the nose. Atsumu’s grandmother isn’t terribly pleased, but her stoic father bursts into tears when they tell him, and immediately sends over a crate full of toys carved out of the bamboo from their family’s ancestral grove. 

The press has a field day when MSBY’s PR team releases news of their marriage and Shino’s birth, but thankfully the full weight of the team’s PR machine manages to twist the coverage to repackage Atsumu’s image as a wholesome family man, so the articles remain relatively positive. Still, they’re forced to sit through a number of photo shoots to keep the press happy, and she shudders at the office gossip she knows she’ll have to face when she returns back to work. 

His teammates crowd to greet Shino when she brings her out for one of their matches for the first time. Atsumu presents Shino proudly to his teammates - ‘ _look at what I made’,_ he demands, dangling her in his hands so they can ooh and ahh over the little girl - ‘ _I learnt it from one of those kiddie cartoons I watched at night when she wouldn’t sleep!’_ he tells her later when she scolds him for the precarious hold.

She has to shoo Hinata and Bokuto away when they try to hand Shino a volleyball, the ball looking comically big against the baby girl. Sakusa stands at a respectful distance away, but hands her an adorable onesie in MSBY’s black and gold, wrapped carefully in plastic. The corner of his eyes crinkle behind his mask when he tells her it’s so Shino can support them properly at their next game. 

‘Aww, Omi-omi! I always knew you liked me deep down inside’ Atsumu crows, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands.

‘You’re insane to marry him’, Sakusa tells her, refusing to even acknowledge Atsumu’s tomfoolery.

‘Maybe I am’, she grins, warmth furling and unfurling in her chest. 

\---------------------------------

Despite her initial fears, Atsumu falls head over heels for Shino, and continues to allow their baby daughter to wrap him around her tiny finger. He wakes up without complaint for night feedings, spends nights pacing their little apartment coaxing Shino to bed, and straps her on his broad chest for what his pronounces ‘daddy-daughter’ adventures during the off-season when she’s away during the day for work. On weekends, they bring Shino to the park to watch the birds and the clouds in the sky, to the aquarium to watch the fish in the sea, and to the museum to marvel at dinosaur bones from a distant past. 

It’s at the museum that Shino says her first word, sitting between Atsumu’s legs in the museum sandbox, digging her chubby hands in the sand in search of fake fossils. ‘Say that again’, Atsumu laughs wetly, pressing kisses to the top of their little girl’s head. 

‘Oto-san!’, Shino crows, the look on her face so reminiscent of Atsumu’s expression whenever he’s pleased with herself that she’s torn between feeling pride at her precocious little girl - and horror that she’s going to have her hands full with a mini-Atsumu. 

‘You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you, princess?’ Atsumu says proudly, and Shino claps her hands as he cuddles her close to his chest. He later tries his level best to empty out the museum gift store of toys to commemorate the day and she has to slap his hands from tossing in _‘just one more toy’_ into their checkout basket. 

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks him later, after they put Shino to bed. 

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he asks with a puzzled frown. ‘I have everything I need.’ 

‘Just checking’, she replies, her doubts forgotten when he tugs her into bed. 

\---------------------------------

For Shino’s first birthday, both their families squeeze into their apartment to celebrate by strapping a giant piece of mochi that Osamu made to her back, a tradition to rid young children of any impurities. Atsumu nearly trips over himself trying to capture a photo of the auspicious moment Shino falls over on her butt, and showers kisses on her proudly when she does not cry. 

They also carry out the _erabitori_ ceremony, setting in front of Shino several objects symbolising the various paths she might choose in the future. Aside from the common items like an abacus, writing brush or books, her brothers insist on including a knife (sheathed, of course), earning raised eyebrows of Atsumus’s family. Osamu tosses in a kitchen spoon and Atsumu naturally places a volleyball right in the center of the spread. 

‘Cheatin’ pig’, Osamu mutters when Shino ends up picking the volleyball (attracted by its bright colours, he maintains), but Atsumu ignores him, tossing the little girl in the air in delight.

\---------------------------------

‘Darlin’, come take a look at this! Kageyama-kun’s playing his first game in Rome, and it looks like - I can’t believe this, why does his technique look better than before?! What - is the water he’s drinkin’ overseas magic or something? How’s he getting so good?’ 

‘Tsumu, could you keep it down? I just got Shino to bed, and I really need to finish the work I didn’t have time to do ‘cos I took over her pick-up today’. She replies wearily, typing furiously at her laptop. 

‘Sorry. I’ll pop over to chat with ‘Samu then, be back late!’

She nods distractedly as she hears the door _click_ behind her back. 

\---------------------------------

‘I can’t believe I screwed up so badly at practice today’ Atsumu grouses, chin propped up on the wooden countertop of Onigiri Miya in between mouthfuls of food. ‘I kept missing my serves, and then that asshole Omi-omi dared to laugh when I ran around trying to get my head back into the game –‘ 

‘Tsumu’. Osamu cuts in, setting another onigiri in front of him. ‘As much as I want to listen to you complain about your no-good, very-bad day, could’ya help your poor wife out a little bit?’ 

‘Thanks ‘Samu’, she musters the energy to give him a distracted smile, juggling a bowl of rice porridge she’s trying to persuade Shino to eat and preventing said little girl from smearing rice grains all over the place.

Atsumu plops Shino onto his lap, and continues talking over her head. She takes the opportunity to stuff her face with food – _glorious food_ , and doesn’t notice when he maintains a sullen silence as they walk home. 

\---------------------------------

A hush ripples across the stands like a tsunami when Atsumu gets substituted midway during the last set of the match. She isn’t surprised, not when he started playing badly during the set – there was a little kid that screeched just as he was about to serve, and he’d hit the ball way out of bounds. That had been the start of his downward spiral during the game – his dump shots got picked up, his blocks weren’t quite on point, and worst of all – he’d somehow managed to misjudge the timing of a toss to Hinata-kun, the ginger haired spiker looking confused when the ball missed his hand. 

He’d stormed off the court the minute the referee’s whistle sounded, frustration and anger written all over his face and she’d made a beeline for the locker room, tucking a sleeping Shino into her carrier. She can hear him yelling ( _at himself, most likely_ ) and the distinct sound of flesh hitting metal, and is about to burst in to comfort him when Sakusa steps neatly in front of her to block her way. 

‘Sakusa-kun’, she greets him, eyes darting towards the door. 

‘Miya-san’, he nods at her, face already hidden behind his usual mask. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb him just yet.’ 

She opens her mouth to object, but Mei-an Shugo, the team’s broad shouldered, good natured captain, plants a hand on her shoulder to gently steer her away. ‘It’s not a pleasant sight when he’s in a funk’, he tells her quietly. ‘Let us deal with it, we’re used to him. Do you need me to call you a cab?’

 _‘He’s my husband – I should be the one to deal with him’_ , she wants to say – but doesn’t, because Shino jolts awake and starts to wail. ‘It’s fine’, she does say, hushing her little girl. ‘I’ll hitch a ride home with ‘Samu instead’.

She meant to stay up to wait for Atsumu, give him his usual kiss and listen to him talk about his day, but she’s out like a light when her head hits the pillow ( _it’s been a long day, in her defense)_ , and she has to leave in the morning for work before he wakes. 

‘Everyone has their off days, but you’re an incredible setter, you know?’ she does tell him that night over dinner. Shino squeals and smashes her hand into the bowl of food. 

‘Of course I am’, he frowns at her, almost as if he thinks it’s odd for her to even feel the need to say that, and turns away to ruffle Shino’s hair.

\---------------------------------

She waits by herself in the lobby of her office building for five minutes before she gives in to her impatience and calls him. 

‘Tsumu? Weren’t we supposed to meet for lunch today?’ 

‘Oh shit – I’m sorry, doll, I promised Hinata-kun that I’ll come in for extra practice today. I’ll make it up to you some other day, ok?’ 

She sighs through her nose. ‘Ok – have fun dear’, she replies reluctantly, and he ends the call before she can say any more. 

She can feel the gaze of her colleagues on her back, and plasters a smile on her face before marching off to her favourite dessert place, comforting herself with a box of mochi. She buys an extra box for Osamu ( _they had a specialty flavour just for the season, and she knows he’s been dying to try that)_ , and drops it off on the way back home. 

Atsumu complains about only getting one piece of mochi when Osamu sends him a picture of her gift – she can imagine him gloating even though the picture is unaccompanied by any text. 

‘You don’t even like chestnut!’ she scolds Atsumu, and he sulks. 

\---------------------------------

‘Tsumu! Could you come help zip me into my dress?’ she calls, checking her watch impatiently. The babysitter should arrive in five minutes to take care of Shino for the night while they’re away at the team’s annual gala party.

‘Yknow’, we’d get there a lot faster if you hadn’t sold your old scooter’, he tells her, as he steps into the room, immaculately dressed in his best suit. 

‘I told you – it’s not practical to keep a scooter around when we have a young child’, she answers, already weary of a conversation they’ve had multiple times before. 

‘I’m just sayin’, he says lightly. ‘Oof – sorry, darlin’, the zip ain’t budgin’. 

‘But it fit perfectly fine the last time I wore it’, she frowns. 

‘You must’ve put on some weight’, he says absently, the heat of his hand burning on her hip even after he walks away. 

\---------------------------------

‘Tsumu, seriously? I told you yesterday morning that we’re out of milk powder and diapers!’ she growls into her phone, cramming her way onto the subway. ‘Fine – whatever, you go for training, I’ll deal with it myself’, she ends the call, dropping her phone like a hot stone into her pocket. 

She runs to the supermarket during her lunch break, cursing herself for wearing heels instead of more comfortable flats, picking up two packs of diapers, a double can of milk powder, and a pack of wipes on discount - all things Atsumu should have picked up last night, but he claimed he was _too busy with training and club events to pay attention to a simple errand like this_ – 

She’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice when her foot misses the curb and lands on her knees in the dust, the contents of her bags spilling onto the road. There are scores of people on the street but no one stops to offer their assistance, so she ignores the searing pain to pick her precious supplies up before they’re lost in the crowd. 

The blood from the cuts on her knees drips down her calves, and she limps her way back to the office. 

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Yuna-san asks with a curious smirk on her face when she heads back to her seat, eyes red, knees wrapped with white bandages. 

‘No, nothing like that’, she answers the office gossip, keeping her voice deliberately light. 

Atsumu only grunts when she asks him that night how his day went, kneeling down to greet Shino with a hug. 

\---------------------------------

‘Won’t be stayin’ for dinner, got a team event at night’, Atsumu calls out to her, one foot out of the door. 

‘What? You should’ve told me earlier, I’m already halfway through preparing dinner’, she shouts back, hacking at the vegetables on the chopping board with a vengeance. 

His only reply is a slam of the door, which startles Shino enough to cry. In her hurry to get to her daughter, her hand on the knife slips, and she cuts open her hand. 

The space beside her remains empty throughout the night, and she falls asleep pretending the only pain she feels is from the bleeding gash on her hand. She’s so exhausted she does not wake until her alarm rings, not even when the surge of rain overnight batters her windows and water floods the streets. 


	4. Lightning in the Sky

‘Hello, Miya-san? Yes, please don’t worry, Shino-chan is fine, just that your husband hasn’t come to pick her up?’ the nervous childcare assistant murmurs her apologies as she hangs up, ready to dial Atsumu to chew him out for _yet another display of his_ _bloody lack of responsibility_. But it’s no use because Atsumu’s number is engaged, and after five minutes, she gives it up as a lost cause and after a moment’s hesitation, dials the other number most used on her phone. 

‘Samu – I’m so sorry to trouble you, could you…? Yes – Atsumu forgot to pick her up again. I’m sorry – I’m at work so I can’t just step out… Thanks ‘Samu – I owe you again’. 

She sighs, leaning her head against the cubicle wall in her office toilet. Then she squares her shoulders before heading back to her cubicle, preparing to tackle the stack of work on her desk until office hours end. 

She picks Shino up from Onigiri Miya later that night, promising treats to her daughter to persuade her to give up her perch from Osamu’s neck. 

‘He’s an ass’, he tells her, voice heavy with sympathy, and she lets herself rest her head on his shoulder. 

‘Yes, you’ve told me that’, she responds with a tired smile. ‘Maybe I should’ve listened’. 

He pats her back, and she departs with Shino in hand.

\---------------------------------

A storm blows into the city from the sea, so she shutters the windows and locks the doors, but the house still shakes from the blitz of thunder and lightning. She rocks Shino to bed, and sings her to sleep amidst the gale wailing outside their walls. 

She can hear the jangle of keys and opens the front door to let Atsumu in. He ignores her baleful glare and shoulders his way in, dripping rainwater all over the floor. 

‘Well?’ she demands, hackles rising at his sullen silence. ‘Would you like to explain how you managed to forget to pick up your daughter from childcare today?’ 

‘It just slipped my mind, alright?!’, he replies, face arranged into a sneer, and with a few strides he’s already halfway to their room, back turned against her. ‘You don’t need to make a big fuss about everything all the time’, he says, his hand on the doorknob. 

‘Atsumu!’ she snaps, her fists clenched by her side. ‘Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to keep bothering Osamu to help clean up your messes? Could you dig deep and _grow the fuck up_ so you can act like a decent husband and father for once? I wish I listened to Osamu when he warned me about you, even before we started going out’.

He whirls around and grabs her wrist in a painful grip, a blaze growing in his eyes. ‘All I ever hear from you these days is _Osamu_ this, _Osamu_ that. If _goddamned_ Osamu is so perfect, why didn’t you just marry him when you had the chance? It would’ve been easy enough to pass Shino off as his, aren’t I right?’ 

‘Maybe I should’ve - then I wouldn’t be in such a state’, she snarls, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. ‘But my fate was sealed the moment I was stupid enough to fall in love with _you_ instead.’ 

He snorts through his nose, the sound bitter, twisted. ‘Well, the feeling ain’t mutual, darlin’. Who said I ever loved you?’ 

She reels back from the force of his words, the bruises on her wrist _nothing_ compared to those in her heart. His eyes widen in shock – but he does not take his words back. 

The rain turns the apartment freezing cold and she shudders, fighting the urge to shrink into herself, counting the seconds in the strained stillness between them before stepping tentatively towards him to cup his face in her hands. 

‘What’s with you, Atsumu?’ she asks, more gently this time. ‘This isn’t like you.’

Her words break his silence, and he sinks onto the couch with a groan, dropping his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been offered a chance to play in Italy for a year, and MSBY’s agreed to let me go for a season. I just haven’t told you yet’, he finally says, shoulders hunched. 

‘Are you going to accept it?’ She manages to ask, a lump of ice lodging itself at the back of her throat, choking the airflow to her lungs. 

He nods mutely, and a storm erupts in her heart. 

‘ _Gods_ , Atsumu. Does it mean nothing to you that you have a wife and child now? Couldn’t you have talked to me first before making such a move? You _know_ I can’t just up and leave Japan with my job and Shino. Are you going to just get up and leave? What’s going to happen to us?’ 

‘I’m just tired of all of this, ok?’ He shouts, jumping to his feet, his tone sharp enough to pierce right through her heart. ‘We got married and had a kid so fuckin’ young, and there’s so much out there that I could be chasing that I wonder sometimes if all of _this_ is a mistake’. 

‘ _Y_ _ou_ asked me to _jump off a cliff_ . This is what _you_ wanted, Atsumu, don’t you dare pin this on me!’ she screams back, not even bothering to staunch the bleeding from her multitude of wounds. 

He throws his head back and _laughs_ , the sound drenched with bitterness and contempt. 

‘Osamu fuckin’ talked me into it – do you think I actually wanted all of this?’ he says, with a callousness she always knew he was capable of but never experienced first-hand. ‘I wish I'd never listened to him, I should’ve just stayed away. Then all of my problems – all of _this_ \- would’ve never existed.’

His words finally strike the breath from her lungs, and she chokes, unable to speak as she watches him grab his bag and storm out of the house again. 

\---------------------------------

‘He’s not picking up my calls either’, Osamu tells her, when she drops by his store a day later. ‘I could hunt him down for you and beat some sense into his thick head’. 

‘Don’t bother’, she says, shaking her head. ‘He’ll resent me even more if you take my side again’. 

‘What are you going to do then?’ Osamu asks, the steam from freshly cooked rice rising between them.

‘ _Come home_ ’, her mother said when she called to break the news, her words ringing clear even over the cacophony of threats her older brothers make in the background about _‘slicing that bastard’s balls off with a knife_ ’. She'd be lying if she said she weren't tempted by the promise of her family's support - her father had always taught her to run for the bamboo grove if there were ever an earthquake, to trust in the strength of the bamboo’s roots to hold the foundations of the earth in its place. But she’s built a career in the city, a life for her and Shino in a small apartment between buildings that seem to burst through the clouds in the sky, and she’s not sure she can walk away from all that just yet. 

‘I don’t know’, she says to Osamu. ‘I guess I’ll figure it out along the way’. 

\---------------------------------

Atsumu evades all of her attempts to talk through matters again, and a month later, he’s packed his bags, ready to get on a flight to Italy. He pauses to kiss Shino goodbye, and slips her two stuffed toys – a fox and a jackal, and she almost smiles at the sentimentality of it. Then he turns to her but does not look her in the eye. 

‘It’s ok to forget me as long as you remember that we have a child’, she says softly. 

He parts his lips to respond but decides against it, eyes hardening as he drops his set of house keys and his wedding ring on the countertop by the front door and storms off. 

She does not cry until Shino is safely tucked into bed, and she finds Atsumu’s old jacket, carelessly thrown in a heap at the back of the closet. She holds it close to her chest, breathing in the memories sewn into its seams, and lets herself finally _break_. 

\---------------------------------

‘Miya-san, I saw on the news that your husband is playing in Italy now. We’re all so surprised you didn’t go with him?’ Yuna-san asks in a too-loud voice, and she has to suppress a cringe when the rest of the office hyenas swoop in, hungry for a kill. 

‘We decided that I should stay in Japan to ensure Shino has some stability in her life’, she answers with a tight smile, the practiced statement she and Atsumu’s manager eventually agreed on spilling easily from her mouth. The ladies slink away, and she sighs in relief. 

\---------------------------------

Atsumu thankfully heeds her words and sends money and gifts to Shino, and even calls their little girl twice weekly, so she still manages to recognise her father - she’s grateful for that. 

He only responds to her texts once, when she messages him to let him know that Shino got admitted to the hospital for a high fever, but seemed to be responding well to treatment, and would be discharged the next day. He promised to pay the hospital bill, and said nothing more. She does not allow herself to be crushed by her disappointment and stops texting him after that. 

Osamu does his best to step in to fill Atsumu’s shoes in his absence, fetching Shino from childcare and letting her hang around his shop until she’s done with work. He spoils her with far too much affection and food, doling both out interchangeably, and his staff and customers treat the little girl like their mascot. 

‘Thank you for all of this’, she says one night, when Osamu insists on walking her and Shino home. ‘I’m sorry for making you clean up Atsumu’s mess.’ 

‘Don’t thank me. Sometimes I wonder if I should be blamed for stepping in to meddle with ‘Tsumu in the first place’ he responds with a strained laugh. 

‘Don’t be’, she responds, pressing a chaste kiss to Osamu’s cheek. ‘Your interference gave me Shino. I could never regret that’. 

But Osamu can never fully step into Atsumu’s place - they may look heartbreakingly similar but he is not her husband, a fact she’s painfully reminded of when they drive back to Hyogo to the Miya family home for _Obon_ without Atsumu. She does her duty with her head held high and Shino strapped to her back, placing the offerings by the family graves, releasing lanterns down the lake to guide the Miya ancestral spirits back to the mortal realm, but the matriarch of the family sniffed her disapproval when Atsumu’s mother shakily informs her that he isn’t visiting this year. 

‘You’re his wife - what good are you for if you can’t even make your husband come back home’, the old lady snapped. 

She bent herself into a low bow to murmur a litany of apologies, shaking her head minutely at Osamu before he even tries to put his foot in his mouth in a misguided attempt to defend her - _dear boy that he is, but he does not deserve the burden of his brother’s sins, and she will not let him go to battle for her when she can hold her own_ \- until the old lady stalks off, only vaguely appeased. The smile on her face for the rest of the night is unflinching but she still cries herself to sleep because she hates herself for being _so goddamned stupid_ \- it should have occurred to her that chasing Atsumu into the eye of the storm would leave her with nothing more than a ruined home and a broken heart. 

But when the morning dawns and the sunrise reflects its colours in her daughter’s eyes, she’s reminded afresh that she's a knife maker’s daughter, and her spine is forged with steel. So she hammers the pieces of her heart back together and does not let herself break again. 

The months pass and the pain recedes. It slowly becomes easier to breathe. 


	5. Roar of Thunder

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over _aperitivo_ by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat - _prosciutto, salami, bresola,_ sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply. 

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the _pizzeria_ down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky. 

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened _oba-chan_ he learns to air kiss on both cheeks. 

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home. 

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of _pity_ ), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday - ‘ _such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’_ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of _her_. 

_He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t._

Well - he might not _need_ the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘ _Sorry, darlin’_ he mumbles sleepily _(_ _because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough)_ \- before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from _home._

_Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t._

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - _anyone_ to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of _something_ in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has _that_ ) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

\---------------------------------

“ _MIYA_!’ 

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between _hearing_ his coach shout his name and _feeling_ the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening _snap_ of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground. 

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery. 

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital. 

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’. 

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip. 

\---------------------------------

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face. 

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says. 

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’ 

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap. 

\---------------------------------

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands. 

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was _Oto-san_ and _Oji-san_ (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand. 

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘ _Mama!_ ’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs. 

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling. 

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight. 

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond. 

\---------------------------------

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings. 

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘ _That’s a new dress you’re wearing’,_ but is always rebuffed - ‘ _I bought this old thing years ago’_ , to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu ( _it makes him want to puke_ ), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes. 

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack ( _perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before_ ), asking her ‘ _how’s yer day’_ , she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘ _Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’_. 

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. _Traitor_. 

\---------------------------------

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when _she_ would help me after physiotherapy’. 

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour. 

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’ 

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’ 

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!' 

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for _months_ \- but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’ 

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away. 

\---------------------------------

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his strange request, but follows him out without complaint. 

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a _fuckin’_ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for getting in the way of him chasing his dreams. _This_ is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter. 

_Gods,_ he wants his family. He wants to come _home_. 

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest. 

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him. 

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly - _Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers._

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him. 

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart. 

She shifts forward, the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise. 

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’ 

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses. 

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and _this'_ \- ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands - ‘ _this_ is my attempt at outrunning _you_.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet. 

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go. 

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind. 

_I could never hurt you_ , he wants to say, but _doesn't_ \- because he knows it's a lie. 

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side. 

He hears the door close behind him. 

\---------------------------------

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes. 

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand. 

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily. 

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs. 

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’ 

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. _You_ walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany _yer wife_ to the hospital when _yer kid_ was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause. 

The twins stare at each other. 

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away. 

The door slams behind him again. 

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour. 


	6. Gunmetal Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who've left comments on this little fic, thank you - from the bottom of a humble writer's heart.
> 
> You guys are the reason I continue to write, even when the going gets hard <3
> 
> And on to the next chapter!

Atsumu didn’t get his name on the National team roster, let alone the Olympic team because of his genius setting skills ( _unlike dear Tobio-kun),_ but because of his stubbornness and determination that he has in spades and figures he might as well deploy these same qualities to win this particular match. Osamu is of zero help here, muttering insults under his breath but fortunately, he has an unwitting accomplice in Shino, who happily babbles about how ‘ _mama is going to bring her to the park on Sunday’_. 

So armed with onigiris pilfered from Osamu and a box of mochi from her favourite dessert shop, he goes a-hunting for his wife and child at the park on Sunday afternoon and finds them lying on a picnic mat in an open field framed with trees.

‘ _Oto-san!_ ’ Shino squeals and dashes into his arms. He lifts her up, spinning her in the air, pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks. 

‘What are you doing here, Atsumu?’ she demands as she sits up. ‘How did you even know we’d be here?’ 

He winks and gives her his most dashing smile. It doesn’t seem to work though - the frown on her face deepens, but he tries not to let her look of distrust slice through the smile on his face. 

‘A little princess gave me a hint that her mama still has a habit of going to the park to watch the birds and clouds in the sky. Right, Shino?’

Shino cheers and waves her arms in reply. 

‘Good girl!’ he laughs encouragingly. 

She folds her arms and is about to retort when Shino demands that ‘ _Oto-san and Oka-san’_ try to catch her - and takes off, barefoot on the grass. Atsumu catches her easily with one hand - because of course he does, a three year old is hardly a match against a national athlete, even with an injury, but Shino pouts when she sees the cross look on her mother’s face, and she has to hastily rearrange her expression into something more acceptable to her daughter. 

He counts it as a point won when they share the onigiris and mochi in silence and watch their little girl chase butterflies in the grass. 

\---------------------------------

‘What on earth are you doing here?!’ she says, feeling as if she’s woken up from a bad dream to find it actually is her reality. 

Atsumu stands in the foyer of her office building, in the middle of a conversation with Yuna-san, the resident office gossip, who shoots daggers at her when he bounds over to greet her with a peck on her cheek. 

‘I thought I’d surprise my dear wife with lunch,’ he drawls, with an emphasis on the word ‘ _wife_ ’, passing her a bento box that smells _amazing_ and makes her mouth water despite herself.

‘What are you playing at?!’ she hisses while pretending to tuck his hair behind his ear. 

‘Nothing!’ he answers her, a too-innocent look on his face. ‘And you’re welcome. Enjoy your lunch, sweetheart!’ 

He counts another point won when she’s left gaping at him incredulously as he prances off. 

\---------------------------------

He pats himself on the back for the stroke of genius that prompted him to pass Shino the three tickets to the Osaka Aquarium. Before she could utter even a word, Shino shrieked in excitement at the thought of being able to see her favourite penguins again, so with gritted teeth, she agreed to bring Shino to meet him at the aquarium on a Saturday afternoon. 

‘Did you know seahorses mate for life?’ he remarks to her as Shino gathers with the other children in front to watch the penguins being fed. 

‘And male seahorses are the responsible ones who bear their young - what’s your point anyway?’ she responds, contempt dripping from her voice. ‘Anyway, never mind that -’ she continues, brushing him off. ‘Have you signed the divorce papers?’

‘I forgot,’ he tells her lamely. 

‘See that you remember to pass it to me next time’, she says, walking ahead to scoop Shino up in her arms. 

Point lost. Time to recalibrate. 

\---------------------------------

‘Atsumu! What the hell am I supposed to do with FIFTY rolls of toilet paper?’ she shrieks over the phone. 

‘I may have bought a little too much…but there was a great discount!’ he responds sheepishly. 

He’d overheard a conversation between her and Osamu yesterday that she needed to make a grocery run but hadn’t had the time to do so in between endless meetings with her boss. He concedes he may have gone a little...overboard.

‘And how many cans of milk powder did you buy?!’ he continues to hear her scrabble through the cardboard crate outside her home. ‘Atsumu!’ 

‘Gotta go, bye darlin’ - talk to you soon!’, he says, hastily ending the call as she screeches at him. 

Shit. Another point lost. 

\---------------------------------

He brings out the big guns by buying season passes to the museum of natural history, gambling that a blatant appeal to nostalgia might win him some points. But he knows she recognises his gambit when she corners him while Shino is playing with toy fossils in the sandbox. 

‘Atsumu. When are you going to sign the divorce papers?’ she demands, her grip tight on his elbow. 

_Defend. Counterattack._

‘I’ll sign them after my collarbone heals and my arm is out of the sling, alright? I can’t even hold anything in my right hand, let alone sign anything now’, he says with a false smile.

_Hold your opponent off until they start to tire._

‘Fine’, she mutters, shooting him a hard stare. ‘Make sure you do. I’ll be waiting once that sling comes off’. 

Fuck. He’s backed himself into a corner. This might be a harder match than he imagined. 

\---------------------------------

He offers to look after Shino on a Friday evening when she mentions to Osamu her boss organised a client dinner that she can’t miss. She’d nodded reluctantly after a moment’s hesitation, and they agreed that he’d drop the little girl off at home around ten p.m. 

He fumbles with the keys pilfered from Osamu, pizza box balancing precariously on top of Shino’s pram and after an undignified struggle, manages to squeeze in through the doorway, finding the apartment completely still. With his one good arm, he lifts Shino from the pram, careful not to disturb her slumber and treads softly to her bedroom, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead as he tucks her in. 

As he returns back to the entryway to fold the pram away, a glint of gold catches his eye, and he forgets to breathe when he realises what it is – the wedding ring he'd deliberately left behind, an act calculated to inflict maximum pain. _Wow, he really wishes he could go back in time and punch that stupid prick of his past self_ \- he thinks, holding the ring up to the light, failing to spot any flecks of dust or dullness to the sheen of the ring. She's kept it meticulously clean, sitting in the exact same spot he left it, the sole artefact of their marriage that's been preserved against the passage of time. 

After all, he notices that she’s wiped the place clean of _him,_ that much is obvious when he turns to survey the home he left almost a year ago. There are signs of Shino in the toys scattered all over the worn carpet in the living room, colourful scribbles on the walls that probably makes her fret, and there are little touches that remind him of _her_ \- the chipped teacup she insists on using, the set of handmade knives displayed in the kitchen that was always intended by her family as a threat. But there are no traces of _him_ \- no stray pieces of clothes or volleyballs that he always forgets to put away (that she’d always get on his case for), no picture frames of _them_ , not even the ones from their wedding day that he’d loved because he thought she looked like a snow maiden from a fairytale in her white kimono. 

_He’d promised her father that day he’d always take care of her. He wonders when he’d forgotten that._

‘Tsumu?’ he hears her murmur, and he jumps a little in shock because he hadn’t noticed her curled up on the couch. ‘Have you come home?’ 

_Yes_ – he aches to answer, but does not. 

_(Because he knows he chose to turn his back on this little apartment, filled to the brim with happy, golden memories. It’s his fault he can’t call this place home, not anymore.)_

‘I brought pizza in case you’re hungry’, he does say loudly – carefully keeping his distance as she sits up and shakes the sleep from her eyes. 

‘Oh. It’s you’, she says, and he can hear cold steel return to her voice. ‘Why are you still here?’ 

‘I brought pizza to share. It’s Friday night, remember?’ he answers, plastering a grin on to his face, gesturing at the pizza box on the kitchen table. ‘I even got pepperoni, your favourite’. 

‘You can’t keep playing this game, Atsumu’, she says, walking over to the switches to flick on the lights. It brings her into clearer focus, allowing him to notice the pink scars stretched across the back of her hand and the front of her knees - _were they always there before?_

His eyes sweep over her form - and _oh -_ his heartbeat thunders, roaring in his chest because she’s wrapped herself in his old jacket - the same one he’d stolen from Osamu and threw over her trembling shoulders that fateful night when he stole a kiss from her for the first time. 

‘I miss ya’. He blurts out, startling himself. ‘I want us to be a family again’. 

‘I don’t’, she answers so forcefully it makes him take a step back. ‘I want a divorce, Atsumu’. 

‘But why?’ he persists, ignoring the spike of panic coursing through his blood. ‘If ya give me a chance, we could try starting over again.’

‘How many chances do you think you deserve, because you’ve already left me _twice_ , damn you!’ she shouts, pulling the jacket tighter around herself, as if to keep herself from unravelling apart. ‘The first time you left me when I was pregnant with our child was enough of a blow – but the second time I fell to _pieces_ and if it weren’t for Shino and ‘Samu, I would’ve never been able to weld myself back together again. And now after all this time, you want me to take you back?’

‘It’s only been a few months’, he pleads, hating how stupid his excuses sound, even in his head. ‘I should've managed it better, I should’ve talked things out with ya instead of just leaving, and if I could rewind time and change what I did, I would, but I can’t, and I regretted it so _goddamn much_ when I got to Milan. I’m back now - I’m begging you to give me another chance.’ 

‘Why would you even _think_ you deserve another chance’, she laughs, the sound fraying at its seams, sending shivers down his spine. ‘You’ve spent our entire marriage putting your dreams first, Shino a distant second, and me - your fucking _wife_ \- dead last. This past year has taught me that I don’t _need_ you, ‘Tsumu, I don’t need your lying, cheating ass in my life when I can manage perfectly fine by myself’. 

‘I didn’t cheat on ya’, he defends himself heatedly, but she levels him a hard glare that makes his gaze slide to the ground. ‘I mean - I thought about it, but I couldn’t go through with it’, he admits, guilt flooding his belly. 

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ she says dryly, rolling her eyes. 

‘Yes - no - I don’t know.’, he answers. ‘Look doll - I know I’ve been an asshole, I know I’ve hurt ya badly, but I know ya still love me - ya know yer face gives ya away when you lie’, he adds, when she opens her mouth to contradict him, and she closes it in defeat. ‘Otherwise ya won't be wearing my jacket when you sleep, neither would you keep my ring clean. And if ya love me, don’t ya think you should give me another chance?’

Her face twists in anguish, and there’s a rush of shame in his chest that he tells himself to ignore, reaching forward instead to cup her cold face with his hands. She winces at first, almost as if his touch is scalding, white hot with heat, but soon surrenders when she realises his grip on her is unwavering, lifting her gaze to meet his. 

‘You can’t do this to me, ‘Tsumu’, she says, her voice brittle, echoing with an aching sadness that tears a hole into his already gaping heart. 'You can’t leave as and when you feel like it and return when it suits you – that’s not how marriage or fatherhood works. It’s not fair for you to try to guilt me into taking you back. Why should I give you another chance only to end up being hurt again? I'm only human, and there’s only so much my heart can take'.

It’s only then that it hits him that while she may have transformed herself in his absence into a woman of iron and steel, her heart is still made of glass, and a single touch might shatter her into fragments across the floor. And he knows he shouldn’t strike her any further with his words, but he’s a selfish fool of a man - always has been, always will be - so he pretends he does not see her pain _(looks deliberately away from the fissures in her heart that might cause her to fall apart)_ and continues to press _hard_. 

‘Please - just trust me enough not to hurt ya, I just need one more chance. Tell me ya still love me - even now.’ 

‘I do, oh _gods_ , I do, ‘Tsumu- _’_ she gasps, almost as if she’s drowning in a whirlpool of his selfishness, her breath tipping over into a broken sob - ‘I love you _,_ but our marriage is over - it was over the minute you put yourself before Shino and I, and left us behind to fend for ourselves.’

He shakes his head, desperately flailing against the death knell in her words - _because it can’t be over, he refuses to accept it’s over, what does she mean it’s over_ \- but he stills when she chokes back her tears to smile, lifting her hand to brush her thumb lightly across the corner of his mouth. 

‘I’ve already paid you with my heart, ‘Tsumu - don’t you think I deserve to be free?’

\---------------------------------

Her words swirl in his mind as he makes his way back to Osamu’s flat. 

‘Things didn’t go so well, I take it?’ Osamu asks as he lurches through the door with overcast eyes. 

He inhales slowly through his nose. ‘Nope’, he admits, exhaling in defeat. ‘She isn’t prepared to take me back.’ 

Osamu pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and waves him to take a seat, sliding a plate of reheated curry rice under his nose when he does. ‘Eat up’, he says, not unkindly, and Atsumu does, even though the smell makes his head spin and every swallow of food lodges itself painfully in his stomach. 

‘Go on, say what’s on yer mind’, Atsumu says, knowing his brother too well to see through his posture of nonchalance. ‘I know yer gonna tell me ‘ _I told ya so_ ’ and mock me with some insult intended to make me feel worse than I already am’. 

‘I’m not going to gloat, if that’s what ya mean’, Osamu says mildly. ‘All I can say is that the heart is a funny, fickle thing, and sometimes it hungers for things it knows will only bring pain. But I think ya know you’ve reached a point where ya need to consider whether ya can live with yourself for constantly causing her pain.’ 

Atsumu stays silent, fingers tracing absently over the outline of the wedding ring in his pocket. He wonders if he’s imagining the coolness from the metal seeping into his skin.


	7. Storm's Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finally at the penultimate chapter! I'm excited to hear what you guys think about this chapter - so drop me a comment and let me know what you think (or if you have questions, hit me up!). But don't worry - there's still the final chapter to go, and if you think their journey is at an end, you're sorely mistaken ;)

He stays away from her over the next two weeks. He still picks Shino up from childcare -  _ he’s never leaving his little girl again _ \- but takes Osamu’s advice to duck into the kitchen the minute he hears the bell chime to mark her entrance into the shop. 

‘Is everything alright with Atsumu?’ he hears her ask Osamu after a week of radio silence from him. 

He imagines Osamu just shrugs, because his twin later gives him a look of askance that he ignores. 

‘ _ Meet me on Sunday afternoon? Was hoping to have a quick chat and pass something over to you since my arm is out of its sling. Osamu agreed to take Shino for a couple of hours, so don’t worry about her’ _ , he texts her. 

_ ‘Fine’ _ , she texts back. ‘ _ Works for me _ ’. 

\---------------------------------

‘Hey’, he greets her as she opens the door, fighting the impulse to scruff his shoes into the ground like a nervous schoolboy on his first date. 

‘Hey yourself’, she responds without heat, slipping on her shoes. ‘Shall we?’ 

He nods, turning on his heel and she follows suit, their footfalls matching in pace, though they angle their bodies to avoid each other’s gaze in the lift. They do not exchange a single word until they reach the car park, and he leads her past all the cars to a dim corner, lit by a single flickering electric bulb. 

‘Atsumu - what’s this?’ she says, staring uncomprehendingly at the motorbike parked in front of her, the exact replica of the bike she sold when she got pregnant with Shino, albeit updated with a shining coat of new paint and the latest modifications, top of the line. 

‘Surprise?’ he tells her, unable to hide a grin when she runs a hand reverently over the seat of the bike. 

‘I can’t accept this, ‘Tsumu. It’s too much’, she demurs but he knows she’s fallen in love when she’s unable to tear her eyes away from the bike.

‘Sure ya can! I registered it under yer name, and paid for the parking fees for the year, and look! It even comes with a helmet!’, he assures her, crossing his fingers behind his back. ‘Ya can ride it whenever ya have time to yerself - I’ll make sure I or ‘Samu will take Shino-chan for a couple hours every weekend so ya can go break some speed limits on the bike!’ 

‘This isn’t a bribe, right? Or some attempt to trick me into agreeing into something I don’t want to do?’ she asks him suspiciously. 

‘No - no tricks, I swear on my life. Look - I’ve signed the divorce papers, they’re in my bag. I just wanted to give ya the bike as a partin' gift’, he says, keeping his voice deliberately light. 

She stares at him, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but he holds her gaze until she turns away, satisfied. 

‘You never do anything by halves, do you ‘Tsumu? But thank you anyway’, she laughs breathily and his heart lurches to a start when he sees her slowly start to glow whilst fussing over the bike, exclaiming to herself as she admires the paint job and the extra compartments he’d gotten the mechanic to install. 

Watching her brings back memories of their adventures together before Shino came along. On their rare days off, she’d pick him up for a ride to the outskirts of Osaka in search for a spot to lay their picnic mat down and shoot the breeze. They’d never found that perfect picnic spot, but that just meant that there were more places to explore, more roads to traverse, more adventures for them to go on. That’d all stopped once Shino came along, and he wonders if they wouldn’t be in such a state if he’d put in more effort to carve out more time for  _ them _ . 

And even before that - there was the time she’d surprised him by turning up in Kobe for one of his matches, sweeping him away from his confused teammates right after the match to celebrate over egg mayo sandwiches at 7-11. He suspects that was the day he’d fallen in love with her, half realising that she was probably the only person crazy enough to burn hours on the road on the back her rusty old bike right after an exam, just to stay up all night sitting cross-legged in a dim  _ combini  _ with mayo in her hair, listening to him ramble about his volleyball match. 

_ Wow. 'Samu's right. Even the reason he fell in love with her was fucking selfish.  _

‘Hey ‘Tsumu’, he hears her say after a while and he looks up. ‘Wanna go for a ride?’ she asks brightly, twirling the keys around her finger. 

‘Huh?’ he responds, genuinely perplexed. 

‘A ride, you idiot. Don’t you want to find out how the bike feels on the road, especially since you’re the one who paid for it?’ 

‘Sure’, he says, a little lost - but then again she’s always found ways to keep him on his toes. ‘But there’s only one helmet’. 

‘I still have my old one upstairs. Give me a second so I can get it!’ she rushes off, a spring in her step he’s sorely missed seeing and despite the ache in his heart, he smiles. 

\---------------------------------

His smile vanishes the moment she kicks the bike full throttle and hurtles through weekend Osaka traffic at breakneck speed, making such sharp turns he almost falls off the bike if he weren’t already clutching her waist for dear life. ‘Oi! Look out!’ he yelps, as she weaves her way through narrow gaps between cars, seemingly deaf to the horns of outraged drivers behind her - and  _ fuck he wants to puke but can’t because there’s no way that doesn’t end badly for him _ . 

‘Slow down, you fuckin' maniac’, he manages to shout when his stomach gives itself up for dead, but the wind swallows his words and she only whoops in response. The neon city lights blur into a mess of colours and he runs through his repertoire of curse words. He swears she’s evil - it’s not enough that she’s killed him once by divorcing him, her insane riding is going to make sure he’s doubly dead.

They burst onto the highway in a squeal of tires, the city skyline fading into a sea of lights, and they’re both so focused on the road ahead of them, well – she is, at least, he’s trying his level best to stay on his seat - that neither of them notice the dark clouds gathering above until the first splatter of raindrops on the road. 

The sky is threatening enough to make her swerve off the highway into a quiet neighbourhood, screeching to a halt at the nearest park with an empty shelter large enough to fit both of them. They jump off the bike, helmets dangling over their arm, and she catches hold of his hand as they splash their way through muddy puddles in a bid to escape the incoming storm. 

‘That was amazing!’ she laughs when they reach shelter, twirling on the tips of her feet, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, looking so happy and bright and  _ alive  _ \- like a bird spreading its wings to fly high in the sky, the way she used to be before their marriage broke her wings and shackled her to the ground. 

If only he hadn’t been blinded by the false allure of his dreams to appreciate what was right in front of him - a woman bold enough to whisk him away from the clutches of his deranged fans on the back of a motorbike, fierce enough for Osamu to assign her to deal with his bullshit - and most of all, crazy enough to marry and have a child with him. And he knows she isn’t his, not anymore, but he's a greedy, selfish man, and he wants _her_ one last time, so he throws his jacket over her shoulders as a pretext for drawing her close to him, slanting his mouth gently over hers. 

She stills for a second, and he’s about to pull away when she melts into him, tilting her chin up to grant him greater access to her lips. An unexpected heat coils in his stomach when she tangles her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, a thrill running down his spine as he loses himself in her familiar softness and warmth and  _ groans _ .

She gasps, jerking away from him, tracing her bruised lips with her fingers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

‘Tsumu’, she begins to say, but he cuts her off, frantic with worry that he’s scared her off before he’s had the chance to say his piece. 

‘I’m sorry - I know I shouldn’t have but I just...can I just say what I meant to say to ya before this?’ he asks, banking on the fact that she hasn’t slapped him yet, and to his relief, she nods. 

‘I’ve thought about what ya said, and yer right - I’ve taken so much from ya I don’t deserve to ask ya for anything else, not when I should be the one making it up to ya for the rest of my life,’ he says, his heart cracking beneath his ribs ( _ so it’s true, a heart can actually break _ ) – because he now knows she’s lost to him, has been the second he'd forsaken his vows and stormed out of her life, but he gulps a breath to calm his pulse, forcing himself to continue on. 

‘All I want is for ya to be happy and free - and if signing these papers is the price I have to pay, I’ll do it for ya’. Then he draws the brown envelope from his bag, holding it out to her with shaking hands. 

She makes no move to take it from him. 

‘Do you even love me, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks, her voice feather light, a wisp in the wind. ‘Be honest with me, you don’t have to lie’.

There’s a searing pain in his chest and he closes his eyes, losing himself to the undercurrent of regret pulsing in his mind. 

‘I do’, he manages to choke out, peeling aside the rotting layers of vanity and greed and selfishness and pride to flay his chest open to present his heart to her, in all its bleeding, broken glory. 

‘Yer everythin’ I could’ve ever asked for, and it’s killin’ me to watch you walk away - but I deserve it cos I’m a fuckin’ idiot for not realisin’ that sooner, and ya have no idea how fuckin’ sorry I am for hurting ya so badly and making you think that I don’t love ya - because I do,  _ gods, _ I do, I love ya so  _ goddamned  _ much.’

‘Does our marriage mean that much to you?’ she stares at him, her eyes clouded with an emotion he can’t make out. 

‘ _ Yes _ ’, he says simply, his response both a confession and a prayer. He makes no move to touch her, fearful that any misstep might tip them both over the edge, the storm of emotions swirling within him already threatening to swallow him whole. 

‘Then ask me again, ‘Tsumu’ she whispers, her fists clenched, trembling by her side. 

He blinks at her, but his confusion morphs into elated disbelief when she takes the brown envelope from him and rips it cleanly in half. 

_ Oh.  _

‘Ask me again, ‘Tsumu’, she repeats, the clouds in her eyes clearing into pools of light. He wonders if it mirrors the rush of warmth and love and most of all -  _ hope, _ overflowing in his heart. 

‘Wanna try jumping off a cliff again?’ he asks, voice shaking, echoing the request he made of her years ago.

She steps forward into his waiting arms, her smile like golden sunlight spilling through the grey rain. 

‘Only if you promise to jump with me’, she says softly against his chest. 

He catches her forgiveness desperately in his hands, and seals his promise with his lips. 


	8. Kintsugi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kintsugi - the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold.

It takes time and effort to rebuild a home wrecked by a storm, and reconstruction efforts aren’t necessarily smooth sailing, especially at the start - after all, he’s still the same Miya Atsumu, arrogant and brash and foulmouthed and hyper focused on volleyball, and they both have baggage from years of regret and pain to work through. But he has determination to spare, and she loves him too much for her own good, so they start from the very foundation and work their way up, step by step, one day at a time. 

‘I’ll kill ya if ya ever hurt her again’, Osamu threatens darkly when she and Atsumu break the news to him. 

‘Go find yer own girl and stop being sweet on my wife _damn it!_ ’ Atsumu growls, but the kiss he presses to her forehead when she smacks the back of his head for being mean to his twin is achingly sweet. 

‘Ugh, soppy. Get yer shit outta my house!’ Osamu scrunches his face in mock disgust. 

Both brothers are surprised when she beats Atsumu at flipping Osamu off. 

\---------------------------------

Atsumu moves back _home_ (he’s not even going to hide how happy the sound of that makes him), and they mark the occasion by slipping his wedding ring back on his finger and eating take-out pizza on the living room floor. 

Her burly brothers turn up on their doorstep with a glint in their eyes and too much teeth in their smiles, determined to drag Atsumu off for a couple of drinks and what she assumes will be a very unpleasant chat. She’d insisted on patting them down to make sure they’re not packing any knives - ‘ _what do you take us for, little sis’_ , they’d protested - but she’s not taking any chances, and begs Osamu to join them, ‘ _please ‘Samu, I don’t want to be a widow right after I decide not to divorce his ass_ ’, and he agrees despite grumbling that he might as well be Atsumu's glorified babysitter at this rate. 

She’d woken up in bed the next morning to find the space beside her empty, but the living room crammed full of those four silly men. Atsumu and Osamu share a single futon between them, snoring back to back. There are faint bruises on Atsumu’s cheekbone and telltale scrapes on her own brothers’ knuckles, but otherwise they all seem relatively unscathed. 

She bends over, tracing her thumb along the contour of Atsumu’s jaw, and he stirs, eyes half lidded with sleep. 

‘Hey darlin', I’ve come home’, he tells her, warmth flickering in his smile. 

‘Welcome home, 'Tsumu’, she says, tucking the blanket under his chin and he hums in contentment, falling back asleep. 

His nightmares of brown envelopes and harsh neon lights distorting her face slowly fade, and he dreams instead of weeknight dinners and weekend picnics at the park, relishing the quiet domesticity of grocery trips and laundry loads, and delighting in home games with her and Shino cheering him on.

Some piss poor excuse of a gossip hound corners him after a match to ask him about whether he regrets leaving for Milan since his season ended in injury - and he freezes when the reporter slyly adds ‘ _especially since we all knew it’s a move that required you to leave your wife and daughter behind_ ’. His manager is about to intervene when she sneaks up on him to slide an arm around his waist, apologising to the reporter that ‘ _she’s just so excited to give her husband a congratulatory kiss!’_. 

Sakusa and Meian have to join forces to pull Atsumu back from punching the reporter when he grins shark-like, thinking he’s spotted easy prey and asks her whether she felt abandoned in Japan due to his move - ‘ _pardon me Miya-san for my unwieldy choice of words’._

‘Not at all’, she says without missing a beat, and Atsumu wonders if he imagines the flash of a knife in her smile. ‘I’ve always supported my husband in all his endeavours. It was a joint decision that I should stay in Japan to ensure our daughter has some stability in her life.'

‘She’s good’, his manager tells him when the reporter slinks away with his tail between his legs. 

‘Yeah - I don’t deserve her’, he answers with a rueful smile. 

When he tries to thank her that night, she levels him with a look that could knock a grown man (i.e. him) off his feet, but her voice is gentle and her words are soft. 

‘Don’t thank me’, she says. ‘Just be a better husband and father, ok?’ 

He’s not ashamed to admit that he actually cries. 

He learns to tell her he loves her at least once a day. She starts to smile back cheekily and reply ‘ _o_ _f course_ ’. 

\---------------------------------

The game is in between sets when the skin at the back of his neck crackles with nerves. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Osamu sprinting right into the stands. Then his ears pick up on his little girl’s scream - ‘ _mama’_ she cries, her shrill voice ringing above the confusion rippling through the crowd and his legs move of their own accord, leaping over the barrier into the audience, as he snarls and shoves his way to her usual spot. 

He thought he’s had his fill of nightmares to last him a lifetime. He’s evidently wrong. 

She lies crumpled on the ground, head resting on Osamu’s lap. Her lips are pale and her eyes are closed but _thank god_ _\- thank whichever deity’s listening_ \- her chest still moves with her breath. He’s not quite sure what happens next - he knows he dives to his knees and pulls her towards him but everything else is a blur until her eyes flutter open and she groans. 

‘Darlin’, can ya hear me? Can ya tell me where you are?’ he asks, forcing his voice to remain calm. 

‘Tsumu? Why are you here? Aren’t you in the middle of a game?’ she murmurs, confused. 

‘Fuck the game’, he snaps. ‘Are ya feelin' ok?’ 

‘Something hurts, Tsumu’, she rasps, eyes glazing over. He can feel the chill of ice seep into his spine. 

'Yer fine, yer fine, yer going to be fine' he mutters, over and over and over again, willing her to sit up and tell him _she's fine, she's ok, she'll just shake it off_ \- but light starts to shutter out of her eyes and frost creeps up his throat. 

‘I need a medic!’ he shouts, voice cracking on every word. ‘I need a medic, now!’

‘Tsumu’, he hears his brother interrupt urgently. ‘Tsumu, she’s bleedin’. 

He’s never been more grateful for Osamu when his twin turns to yell for an ambulance and yanks Shino away with him. The little girl is kicking and screaming for her mama but he knows she would kill him if he lets their little girl be traumatised from seeing her mama lying in a pool of blood on the floor. 

He can’t breathe - not even when the medics finally come and whisk her off to the hospital, his mind hardly able to process anything, terror still coursing through his veins when the doctors press brown envelopes full of forms into his bloodstained hands for him to sign so the relevant procedures can be carried out. 

‘Don’t!’ Osamu says sharply, when he drops his head into his hands and starts to whimper about how _he’ll die if he loses her again_ and _what the fuck is he gonna do, ‘Samu, if she doesn’t make it out alive_ – ‘she’s stronger than ya think, don’t ya dare give up on her like that’, and he promptly shuts up after that. Time in the waiting room passes agonizingly slow, seconds feeling like minutes, minutes stretching into hours, and he would have drowned from the weight of his despair if he weren’t anchored in place by his twin’s hand on his back.

His breath rushes back into his lungs when the doctors later tell him _she’s fine_ , _they carried out the standard operation_ \- but she doesn’t look fine, doesn’t seem fine, is very clearly _not fine_ when they wheel her out, huddled into a ball with her head between her knees, like her world has just collapsed into itself. She doesn’t even look up when he sits beside her, the bed dipping under his weight. 

‘I’m sorry’, she eventually says, voice barely a whisper, and he fights the urge to break down into tears – _because ‘Samu’s right, she’s so much stronger than he thinks_. They'd been talking about trying for a sibling for Shino for some time now, since they've both grown up with brothers of their own and can't imagine life without them. But the doctors tell him that it’s just bad luck - the baby was never going to survive, and her collapse was probably exacerbated by stress, overwork, perhaps even fatigue from her skipping lunch for work and dinner to rush to his match.

‘Don’t be. It’s not yer fault at all’, he manages to pull himself together to reassure her, but she just stares blankly at the wall. 

His grandmother calls when they find out the baby they lost would have been a boy, and he fails her again when he’s too late to snatch the phone away before the old lady’s poison drips into her ears and traps her in a deadly fog. He’d cursed the old bitch out relentlessly, but the toxic words fester beneath her skin and she fades into a ghost before his eyes. He desperately tries to stop her spiral into frozen silence, but he’s away for games more than half the time, hands tied behind his back by the stranglehold of contracts and commitments he has no choice but to fulfil. 

He’s never been so thankful before when the season finally ends - but he is, at least this time, so he can talk her into taking two weeks off from work. They drop Shino off with her indulgent grandparents, and drift down the coast on the back of her bike. She doesn’t try breaking any speed limits - and he knows he should be happy about that, but there’s no spark in her eyes, no smile to answer the wind - there hasn’t been, not since she collapsed. 

_(not_ _since they lost their child)_

He buys her mochi at every town, but she picks at it listlessly, just like she does these days when Osamu tries to tempt her with his latest creations. He insists they stay at _ryokans,_ traditional inns with onsens attached, hoping the heat from the water might chase the chill from her bones, but colour does not return to her cheeks. There are shadows beneath her eyes, and she seems to wilt under the vibrant red and gold of autumn leaves. 

They go for a walk after dinner one night, tracing a path along the shore. He’d been talking non-stop the entire trip to mask the gaps left by her silence, but tonight he falls quiet, allowing the hum of the waves to wash over them. Her hand is cold in his, so he wraps his jacket around her shoulders and hopes the warmth from his body bleeds into hers. 

She comes to a standstill, feet sinking in the sand, and tilts her head to face him. 

‘Tsumu?’, she breathes, a question in her eyes. 

‘I’m here’, he says, a prayer in his heart. 

There is a lighthouse on the cliff just a few miles ahead, illuminating the shadows of the waves. The faintest reflection of light pools in her eyes, and he stills as she lifts her gaze to meet his. 

‘I know’, she says, offering him the smallest of smiles. 

He interlaces their fingers together firmly, and tugs her towards shelter, as a storm brews over the horizon. 

That night she tucks her head under his chin, and he holds her until she falls asleep, cradled in his arms. He keeps slumber at bay by counting her breaths, and only falls asleep himself when the storm breaks. 

'Why did I wake up to a blonde octopus wrapped around me', she mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. 

'Nah. More like a seahorse, cos I'm not letting ya go, sweetheart', he replies, tightening his grip on her waist. 'Ya got a problem with that?' 

Her only response is to burrow herself deeper into his chest.

'Guess not', he chuckles fondly, nuzzling his nose into her hair, hope blossoming anew in his heart. 

\---------------------------------

Time turns their wounds into scars and they heal together, one breath at a time. 

She stays away from their first few matches when the season begins again. The press is coerced into passing over reports of her collapse by the dual forces of the MSBY press machine and their legal team, but they are forced to ride out the gossip generated in internet forums by a fringe group of deranged fans. His teammates treat her like she’s made of glass - even Bokuto dials himself down a notch, all save for Shoyo, who slips her his mother’s number, telling her gently that the six year gap between him and Natsu wasn’t deliberate, and that she would find a sympathetic ear in the older woman. 

He knew he was right to anoint Shoyo as his favourite wing spiker - not only does he fly high enough to answer the demand of every single one of his sets, but his sunniness drags her out of the fog into yoga classes and meditation practices, and slowly but surely he watches her bloom again. It’s a powerful combination - Shoyo-kun’s friendship and his mother’s gentle conversations, Osamu’s cooking and her love for Shino, capped with his determination to show her he loves her and prove that he’s here to stay.

‘It’s like _Kintsugi_ ’, she tells him, with a wide smile. ‘All of you poured gold into the cracks of my heart and made me whole again’. 

\---------------------------------

The years pass. 

Shino turns seven – a very respectable age for his very best girl, he tells her ( _I'm your only girl, Papa,_ Shino informs him archly), and obliges her demands of a bicycle in MSBY colours and volleyball lessons, forcing all his teammates to turn up for her birthday party, volleyball themed of course. The look of unadulterated joy on his princess’ face is worth every ounce of effort to put up with Sakusa’s complaints at having to turn up for a kiddie party full of loud noises and far too much candy, and the sweaty afternoons spent hand painting the bicycle black and gold. 

The day Atsumu discovers his first white hair makes her thank her lucky stars that she’s immune to his nonsense by now, because the wailing and gnashing of teeth she has to put up with makes ‘Samu offer her his couch as refuge. She slaps tape and salonpas on his aches and pains, and points to the deepening lines on her face when he complains about his age. 

‘Those lines aren’t wrinkles. If they’re caused by laughter, it doesn’t count’, he reasons laughingly. She’s left befuddled by his logic and shakes her head.

Meian Shugo retires, and Hinata throws a party to celebrate in his honour, cramming the entire MSBY team and assorted friends into his penthouse apartment on a rainy Saturday night. Osamu’s hired to cater the food but remains as a guest, shooting a smirk at him when Shoyo drags her off to dance during his favourite song, twin flames burning bright in the night. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ she asks, when Shoyo returns with her breathless but wreathed with smiles. 

‘Was just wondering when you were gonna save a dance for this old man’, he teases. 

‘Oh?’ she says with a laugh. ‘Thought you said your back hurt, and you didn’t want to move?’

‘Meh - I was hoping you’d forget that’, he says airily, then frowns when he notices there’s no drink in her hand. 

‘Not drinking tonight, sweetheart?’, he asks, curling his fingers around her empty hand. 

‘The doctor warned me not too’, she answers, her smile growing impossibly wider. He blinks in confusion when she leans on to her toes to whisper into his ear - then _oh._

‘You’re pregnant?’ he repeats, unable to trust his ears, eyes filling with tears when she bites her lips and nods. 

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’, she asks, her face alight with hope. 

There is so much he wants to say to her, starting with _thank you_ _loving me enough to give me another chance all those years ago_ and ending with _I love you, so ridiculously much –_ because he can never say it enough, she’s given him more than he deserves – her heart, Shino, a happy home and now the promise of another child. 

But there's salt and water welling up in his throat, and it’s all he can do to choke out a shaky ‘ _of course_ ’, before gathering her in his arms, warmth pooling in his eyes, love overflowing in his heart. 

They stay that way for most of the night, entwined in each other’s arms, so drunk on happiness and love and warmth that they don’t even notice the storm clearing and the moon rising in the clear night sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those who've come on this journey with me - thank you from the bottom of my heart <3 
> 
> And to all those who might stumble on this fic in the future - I hope you enjoyed this wild ride too. 
> 
> Please do leave a comment - let me know if you liked this fic! And don't be sad - this won't be the last you see of these characters :)


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